


Undercarriage

by loogarou



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fingering, Fluff, M/M, Pining, trans!genji, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loogarou/pseuds/loogarou
Summary: It’s an out-of-body experience, realizing in hindsight that someone loved you.  Like a spotlight shining on something that should’ve made sense all along, should’ve been obvious, but somehow wasn’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Namibulous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namibulous/gifts).



> Happy McGenji Valentine!! This is the ‘wireplay’ prompt for Namibulous; I hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing!
> 
> Let me tell you, the summary on this sounds a lot less like it's about porn than the story actually is.

The first thing Genji does back at Watchpoint: Gibraltar is access the security tapes. Athena is dubious, but ultimately cooperative; there’s a flash of hot shame at the back of Genji’s neck, remembering the regard-- or lack thereof-- he had for her before he left.

“Athena?”

The keyboard clacks loudly. Ergonomic only for Winston, Genji supposes.

“Yes, Agent Shimada?” His fingers pause their flurry, slogging backwards through years of surveillance footage from Watchpoint: Grand Mesa.

“I am sorry.” _For how I treated you._ It was testament to who he’d been that the reason went without saying. It’s an apology he owes to more than just her, bubbling in his lungs after years of self-reflection.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.”

He nods, grateful; the first of a few, if all goes well with Winston’s recall. 

Which is why he’s here in the first place.

He left Overwatch in the heat of July, slipping away from his squadron in the downtime of the first mission he’d been deployed on post-dismantlement of the Shimada clan. Reeves had let him run down to the corner store between surveillance shifts, and he’d never returned; left neither hide nor hair to track him by.

Never said any goodbyes, either.

He finds the footage of his team returning to base two weeks later than he’d been looking for it, some complication no doubt having delayed their return. The disappearance of one of their agents, perhaps. 

Guilt makes Genji’s chest ache. Two weeks.

Was he worried about him? Did he try to get around the radio silence between Blackwatch and Overwatch to figure out what happened?

Did he know Genji abandoned him before the plane hit the tarmac?

The footage is oversaturated with sunlight but decipherable, an angle from the top of a nearby shipping crate giving a good view of the cargo plane’s door lowering, and a double-file of neat looking Overwatch agents walking out.

And of Jesse, waiting in a huddle with the debriefing staff, the shuffling of his feet becoming increasingly restless as person after person that wasn’t Genji filed out. He opened his mouth to holler something at Reeves when the plane hatch began closing, shouldering past several agents with panic in his posture as he tried to corner the man before he was swept away to Morrison for mission report--

Genji closes the window abruptly. He hadn’t known, then.

“Athena?”

“Yes, Agent Shimada?”

“Has Agent McCree responded to the recall?”

A few seconds of silence, no doubt checking with Winston what information she was privy to share. 

“Yes. Yesterday, at 12:06 PM. He says he’ll be arriving some time in the next two weeks, circumstances allowing.” Warmth blooms in the center of Genji's chest. 

“Would you tell me when he gets here?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

\---

Genji nearly loses his nerve when Jesse finally shows up, three weeks and an arrest warrant in two states later.

When he pictures Jesse, he thinks of the Jesse the Boy: the tall, barrel chested, knock-kneed seventeen year old he’d gotten into more trouble than he can articulate with, the one who made the medical wing into a fire hazard with fairy lights whenever Genji’s ‘unprecedented medical technology’ failed, leaving him lame and grief-stricken. He’d seen the beginning of his growth into a man, even appreciated it in a distant, determinedly friendly way. Jesse was twenty-six when Genji disappeared into the night, and had taken to wearing his off-duty shirts half unbuttoned to proudly showcase the dark chest hair that’d finally begun growing in thickly. It wasn’t enough of a change to knock the seventeen year old out of his mind’s eye, though, which is how he justifies the ten anxious, heated minutes he spends watching Jesse carry out his reunions from the upper deck of the hangar, out of sight.

God-- he’s _huge._

Where once he looked like a canvas stretched too-tight across its frame, he now fills up every bit of space his stature afforded him. Jesse McCree at thirty-eight is all broad shoulders and thick arms, with a padding of fat softening the muscle around his stomach and hips. His laugh lines are permanent now, and he hunches himself a little smaller to chatter excitedly with Lena, pulling her up off the ground in a swinging one armed hug when she chirps something about ‘going soft-- ‘round the middle, that is!’

The physical change is more daunting than Genji would like to admit. He’d always thought Jesse was a handsome enough guy, but it’s visceral now, hitting him low in the stomach and spreading like a buzz through his every limb. Jesse's body language and demeanor are still old friends, though, and an abrupt, barking laugh gives him the courage to drop down from the railing.

He hits the floor with a short clatter, heart fluttering anxiously when Jesse’s booming laugh cuts off upon seeing him.

In the shadow of his hat, his eyes are shining, frozen mid-gesture as he stares at Genji like he’s a cruel mirage.

“Genji?” The tone and posture are unmistakable, and it makes Genji want to jump the gun, to forego the baby steps and launch himself headlong at his old friend. It’s the voice and stance of Hopeful Jesse, Happy Jesse, Can’t-Believe-It’s-Really-You Jesse, and in that moment Genji knows that Jesse McCree is still in love with him.

“Jesse.” He steps forward, more slowly than he wants to, pausing just within arm’s length. His voice is bright with mirth. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

McCree shuffles, looking torn between a solemn nod and a crushing hug, clueless and anxious about where their boundaries stood; that made two of them. “I’m just a little surprised to see you back, ‘s’all. Not that I blame you. Things were…” Jesse gnaws thoughtfully on his cigar, words more careful than Genji had ever heard them, “...pretty fucked, there at the end.”

“Yeah, well.” The guilt is there again, but his heart is as light as it’s ever been. “We’ll do better this time.”

\---

It’s like plugging up a hole that had been slowly leaking for years, and Genji’s nearly high on it, hovering over the coffee machine in the repurposed briefing room while they paint stories of what life had become since they’d seen each other last.

It’s the best start he ever could’ve hoped for, for the first few days.

Thing is, he can’t ever get Jesse _alone._

He isn’t ashamed of the apologies has to make, or the explanations Jesse is due. Still, he isn’t entirely comfortable starting this conversation, a conversation he hopes beyond hope will move past topical, in the middle of the breakfast nook with Lena cleaning up the fatty bits of bacon he’d torn off like they were Jack Sprat and his wife.

Maybe he just needs to steel himself and spit it out, but it feels indelicate to start a conversation that he planned to work ‘ _and I know you had feelings for me, and I’m sorry I never acknowledged them’_ into with four friends in earshot.

Every time he thinks he has the man to himself someone walks in as though on a cue. The late hours Jesse used to keep lounging in the rec room or rifling through the fridge are gone. It seems, in fact, like there isn’t a single moment he's not surrounded by the bustle of the new team, drawn away every time Genji tries to move them somewhere more private. The only time Jesse _doesn’t_ find somewhere else to shuffle off to is when Genji needs help with something; never let it be said Jesse isn’t steadfast and attentive in reprogramming the training bots and unloading the dishes.

Which is how Genji finds himself pouring over his communicator, agonizing over the language and grammar of a little white lie.

_back wiring got tangled during the Numbani sim, can’t put backplate back on without fixing it-- help would be appreciated_

\---

One of the best things about his cyborg anatomy, in Genji’s opinion, is that nobody but Angela and himself have the wherewithal to know what his internal rigging is supposed to look like.

He doesn’t have opportunity to exploit it very often. His armoring covers everything intricate and vulnerable, metals and diamond-hard plastics so close-fitting and efficient they look like a chassis instead of a uniform. Admittedly, he hasn’t had occasion to strip completely down in so long, it may as well be; the lack of pores to sweat from across most of his body makes baring his synth-skin superfluous in most bathing situations.

Nevertheless, he’s de-suited when he goes to find Jesse, wearing nothing but soft, oversized sweatpants that feel impossibly soft against the ‘skin’ of his legs after so long. He’s excited at the prospect of getting used to it again: of having a home base that isn’t in a temple without central heating at the top of a freezing mountain, as serene and welcoming as Nepal had been to him. 

And maybe getting used to not wearing pants at all, too. First things first, though.

Jesse is at the door within seconds of Genji’s knock, brow drawn together in worry as Genji thanks him. 

They sit together on the bed, Genji facing the door and McCree facing Genji’s back, the little side panel on his lower back detached and set carefully on the nightstand.

He feels more than a little guilty about the subterfuge; Jesse is clearly alarmed at the prospect of something being wrong with Genji’s insides. He does his best to assure the man that nothing’s seriously wrong. Nothing’s really wrong at all, of course, other than the fact that Genji had to spend a good ten minutes with his arms behind his back weaving and twisting his wires out of place to give the illusion of a tangle.

Jesse is impossibly gentle behind him, thick fingers prying apart and smoothing down the wires with more care and deftness than Genji ever would’ve shown himself.

“Does this kinda stuff happen often? Seems like a problem to bring up with Angela; something catches and yanks in the middle of a fight, that’s a real bad scene.”

“It’s nothing dangerous. It takes a lot to jostle them like this, and I can usually smooth things out by myself.”

More guilt. He’d asked Zenyatta for pointers when he first conceived of this plan, and had been leveled with a look entirely too pointed for someone without eyes that said if he wasn’t going to be forthright and mature about this, the omnic would have no part in his machinations. Which, fair, but entirely unhelpful, especially now, when he was beginning to realize his master probably had the right of it.

“Listen; I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, actually, so this works out anyway.”

He feels Jesse’s fingers pause before very slowly resuming their work. It felt… entirely new, somehow, a wholly different experience from the many times Mercy had done much the same thing during maintenance and repairs. 

Well. Maybe not entirely the same thing. The doctor knew what she was looking for, efficient and professional in the way she checked things over, moved them to the side, and continued on. The task he’s set Jesse to essentially amounts to just stroking, smoothing his fingers with infinite care over the crossed wires and coaxing them back into order.

Genji realizes he’s been silent for too long now, breathing deeply, with Jesse shifting confusedly behind him.

He tries to play it off as him gathering his thoughts, but _fuck_ , that’s… unexpectedly distracting.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” He purses his lips, distraction and contrition in equal measure. “I finished what I had decided was my life’s mission and I left you behind. You were, and are, my friend, and I care about you. You deserve more than that. _Fuck_.”

The last word is a sharp hiss, back arching. Jesse pulls his hands back, eyes wide and worried. “I hurt somethin’?”

“No! I-- no. Sorry. It’s just strange.”

Jesse’s voice goes low with something Genji can’t place. “An alright kind of strange?”

Genji nods, panic mounting, eager to save face. “Of course. Please, continue.”

“If you’re sure, then.” He slowly goes back to his work, those same bright sparks of sensation thrumming through Genji with every touch.

“I was never mad at you, Genji. I was hurt, I’m not gonna lie, but… I understand why you did it. Why you had to do it. You were never gonna get better in Overwatch, and I knew that, even then, even when I didn’t want to. I think you comin’ back here at peace with yourself is the best apology you could ever give me. Anyway, now we’re here doin’--” Jesse made a gesture he couldn’t see, voice tender, “-this, so. More than evens out, far as I’m concerned.”

It’s so goddamn Jesse that he feels his chest ache-- and then _ache_ , one of Jesse’s fingers slipping between two clusters to brush the hardware behind them. Goddamn, it feels so--

He realizes how slick he is between the legs when he tries to shift his weight, and loses his train of thought (what is “this”?) trying to focus on responding like a normal human being.

“I-- yeah. Me too.”

Jesse huffs, sounding amused, and his right hand dips in farther, pinky dragging across the inside of his skin-mesh--

“Fuck! Don’t-- _f-fuck_.”

This isn’t what he’d intended. His cooling processes whirr to life as though to betray his turmoil while he hunches his shoulders in, praying Jesse doesn’t catch sight of the flush creeping up the patch of natural skin on his neck. There isn’t a precedent for this; not for him, when all of his painstakingly calibrated skin-mesh was designed specifically to give him the most human experience possible in the wake of what he’d lost, which had not, up to this point, included a vested interest in having his _nerves fondled_.

Jesse goes still as the grave, attentive. Worried and kind, utterly trusting, completely unaware that what Genji had asked of him has essentially amounted to feeling him up, apparently-

“D’you want me to stop?”

Genji pants, trying to find the wherewithal to get up, move away. “It’s not-- you didn’t do anything wrong, I just. I’m having some, ah, unforeseen reactions.” McCree removes his hands immediately, leaning to the side to try to get a look at Genji’s face. The mounting panic there makes Genji feel like the worst kind of con artist. “I didn’t- aw fuck, Christ, I didn’t hurt anything in there did I? I’ll call Angela, we--”

“No! No, I’m unharmed, please-”

“I know it’s embarrassing, sweet pea, but I couldn't live with myself if--”

“I-- embarassing? What?” Had Jesse noticed? Why is he trying to get Mercy down here if he knows why Genji had to stop? He shifts, swiveling enough that he can see Jesse’s-- startlingly red, actually-- face.

Jesse coughs, eyes darting away. “I personally strive not get my doctor involved in ‘dumb shit my partner unplugged during sex’ if I can avoid it, but if the alternative is you hurtin’, I think we really need to get her up here--”

“During-- what?”

Finally, Jesse looks back to him, brows furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘during what?’”

“You thought we were having _sex_?”

Jesse’s jaw goes slack for a moment. “You asked me to bury my hands in your wires! I mean, I wasn’t-- I didn’t come up here with _presumptions_ , but when everything looked smoothed back on out and you were clearly… well. _Enjoying_ yourself, I figured you’d just been trying to be delicate about--”

“About tricking you up here to fondle me?” Genji’s throat is tight, body tense as he leans away from McCree; of course Jesse had noticed. He’s been running covert ops since before he could legally drink, and now Genji has to sit here and look like a creepy, maladjusted asshole--

Jesse reaches up to rest his hands gingerly on Genji’s shoulders, easing himself back into the space Genji had created between them, mindful for any signal to stop.

“I didn’t say that; I’d never accuse you of havin’ those kind of ulterior motives,” Jesse’s voice is low and sincere, lulling some of the taut anxiety out of him, “I just really thought this had occurred to you as a possibility before you asked.” Genji prickles, face hot. 

“You thought I wanted to take advantage of your ignorance to-- to get _off_ \--”

“Sweetpea, this is the twenty first century. Figured you knew I’d be as aware as the next person with internet connectivity how omnics have sex. I just thought this was a very-- well. Forward overture, I s’pose. Been tryin’ real hard not to make you uncomfortable, what with how I fawned after you back in the old days. Chalked this up to you bein’ sick to death of my pussyfooting.”

“But--” Genji pauses, swallowing thickly, breathing evenly through his nose for a few seconds before continuing. He doesn’t pull away from Jesse. “I’m not an omnic. It’s not even a comparable construction, beyond the bare frame underneath; there’s no precedent for reacting like this, even with all of my maintenance appointments--” Jesse’s grip twitches incrementally, a low, strangely deliberate inhale cutting him off.

“So you’re telling me not only did you _not_ come here to fuck, you didn’t even know this kinda fucking was on the table.” 

Genji coughs to clear out the borderline hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest.

“Yes.”

Jesse’s hands remove themselves from his shoulders, bed dipping as the other man shifted his weight before Genji fully realized the implications of that. “Wait-- Jesse, you didn’t--” He grabs his arm before he can move off the bed, McCree’s expression glassy and pained.

“I am--”

“Jesse, it’s fine, I promise it’s fine-”

“- _ **so**_ fucking sorry, Jesus… Jesus _Christ_ \--”

“I’m not!” He tugs Jesse back, bracing his hands on the other man’s chest. “This is kind of what I was hoping to get at, actually. I mean, not _having sex_ , necessarily. Just... I’m in a better place than I was when I left, you know? When I left _you_. So I was going to ask if you wanted to… I don’t know. Try to make something work, this time around. I told you my hardware got tangled because you were avoiding me, and I knew you wouldn’t say no to something like that. But I’m not entirely upset with how all-” he makes a short, all encompassing motion with his hand, “this, turned out, if you’re not.”

Jesse stares at him seriously, mouth drawn into a worried line. “‘All this’ being me gettin’ you hot by feeling around under under the hood?” Genji goes red across his cheekbones.

“Yes. That.”

“Just checking. Think I’ve done enough assuming for one night.”

Chest tight, Genji reaches up to frame his face. “And _I_ think you’re a good man who meant well.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “ _And_ , if you’re amenable, that I wouldn’t mind if you went back to what you were doing. Providing we’re both on the same page now.”

Jesse grabs his hands, lifting them slowly off his chest to nudge him back into the position they’d been in. “That page being me wrist-deep inside of you?“ The tone is more teasing than sensual, but the thought of it warms Genji’s body, picking up where they left off.

“That would be the one, yes.”

Jesse leans in behind him, unkempt beard tickling against the back of his neck, smile pressed into his skin. “Just checking; it’s a favorite page of mine, you know. And since we’re sayin’ what we think, I wouldn’t be at all opposed if you decided you _did_ wanna ‘ _take advantage of me to get off_ ,’ sugar. Spontaneity’s the spice of life, and all that.”

There’s less hesitance this time when Jesse’s flesh hand slips itself deftly past the outer cables to weave through the delicate wiring beneath. Thick, warm knuckles brush against the juncture where several of his nerves plug into his backbone, hand twisting and rubbing, buried firmly inside his chest cavity. It’s different, better, being able to relax into it. There’s something about Jesse playing so carefully with the things that kept him hale and whole, feeling around inside his body, that makes Genji moan, rearranging himself so he can lean forward on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. A hot ache pools between his legs, neglected.

He can feel Jesse’s hand sliding deeper, barely enough room for it in his maintenance cavity, fingers curling into the mess of cording just behind the wall sectioning off his rebuilt stomach. His body is very much on the biomedical side of engineered, basic processes either repaired or reconstructed, as much sectioned off artificial tissue as he is wire and chassis. It makes sense, that he didn’t think himself susceptible to… whatever this was. An unnatural, welcome invasion of his insides: the gentle, intent handling of parts of him that aren’t supposed to be bared to the world. 

Fuck. He’s so into it. His chest depressurizes, steam rolling from his shoulders as he settles down more comfortably against Jesse. “You’re not terrible at this, you know.”

Jesse laughs into the back of his neck, making his hand jostle and Genji’s hips twitch and buck desperately. “Mighty generous of you.” Genji hums, arching his back so the wires pull taut between Jesse’s fingers. “What can I say; I’ve become a mighty generous man.” Fingers pull in a tight loop, coiling the wiring around them while Jesse’s thick thumb rubs at the grooves between his artificial vertebrae. Without the modesty plating of his armor, Genji can feel himself gush. He croons, low and pleased. 

“And a modest one too, if I may say so. Got anywhere else that needs some tender loving care, sweetness?”

Genji reaches down to his left thigh, pawing clumsily at the release with shaking fingers. It was all mechanical beneath the surface of the mesh, here, no need to construct a closed loop for blood and soft tissue, just insulated nerve wirings criss-crossing each other over polycarbonate bone. “You may, but I’ve- _ah_ \- always been modest. And yes, if you please.” 

Jesse rubs his beard affectionately against Genji's cheek, shifting so his long legs stretch out, bracketing Genji’s own. The metal hand feels nearly indescribable as it slides into the top of the opening, weaving his hand through cables to let his fingers rub against the nodes where his leg connected to his hip. It’s cold and smooth and insistent, tapping and nudging where his nerve endings all met to continue on up his body, a mess of signals Genji’s brain doesn’t know where to begin deciphering. His mouth drops slack, slumping fully against Jesse’s chest, hips canting. The hand in his torso relinquishes its grip on his wires, instead rubbing its way up as high as it could into what little space there was in Genji’s chest, nudging up against everything as it moved. 

“You know, actually--” Genji’s breath cuts off in a hitch, hips bucking with a little ‘ah, ah’ when the hand inside his thigh _tugs_ at something that makes his muscles jump, “-there’s somewhere that needs your ‘loving care’ a little more than there.”

Jesse practically purrs when Genji eases his hand out of his leg and towards the waistband of his pants. Jesse takes initiative, Genji shivering as the cool metal slides down beneath the hem and _cups_ him firmly, dripping and shaking at the sensation. 

His mouth goes slack and wide when the tips of Jesse’s two middle fingers breach him, writhing back into the hand petting his insides and feeling like a puppet on strings. Those fingers feel as huge and intrusive fucking him as they do tangling with his wiring, making Genji’s thighs tense with the urge to bounce on them, lacking the leverage. McCree grunts low in his chest at the sight, molding himself against Genji’s back to suck and kiss at his neck. Hunched over him like this, Genji can feel his sweat, his chest hair rubbing coarse and novel against his skin-mesh, and the huge, obvious bulge pressing tight against his ass.

It’s entirely overwhelming all together, too much and not enough all at once. Jesse begins curling his fingers fast and mean inside of him, the noise wet and obscene, palm grinding rhythmically into Genji’s clit, and everything goes white.

Genji moans through his orgasm, hips bucking wildly enough that Jesse has to freeze and carefully disentangle the hand in his back for fear of dislodging something. The hand between his legs pushes in harshly one more time and stills, Jesse’s whole body tensing up behind him.

It takes Genji a few minutes to get his bearings back, slumped onto his side and breathing heavily.

“Did you just--”

“Are you about to ask a question that you know the answer to?”

Genji curls into himself and laughs brightly.

After a minute, Jesse drags his bulk over to him, peeling himself inelegantly out of his ruined pants and spooning up behind him. “That was a bit of a rough start there, but I’d go so far as to call the ending ‘best case scenario,’ as far as I’m concerned.”

“Agreed.”

There are a few minutes of silence, breaths heavy and loud in the little room, mattress creaking as they shift to slot together more closely. Genji is the one who breaks it, turning onto his back and catching Jesse’s eye.

“You were avoiding being alone with me because...”

“-because I didn’t have a doubt you knew I was in love with you, and I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. It was a hard call for all of us, coming back here to this thankless job, and I didn’t wanna be the one makin’ your call harder by having a lovesick cowboy dog your private moments.”

Genji hums, low and affectionate, running a hand down along the line of hair that started over McCree’s belly button. “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on this,” Genji slides his fingers over the base of Jesse’s big, soft cock, and he shudders, “-but I’m a big fan of having you in my private moments.” Jesse snickers, unceremoniously throwing one thick, hairy thigh across Genji’s pelvis. “I can’t say that I have, actually. Maybe you’d be willing to elaborate for me?”

Genji smothers his grin into Jesse’s side, goosing him rudely and cackling when he startles. “Maybe I would.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun with this, I can't even say; if anybody has McGenji prompts in this vein/something you want to see more of, seriously, let me know!


End file.
